Cases of Konohagakure
by sanjuuriki
Summary: A collection of short chapters following a story about Konoha's upcoming new sleuth, an underdog of the Leaf: Uchiha Sasuke.
1. The Nameless Body pt1

**Sunlight slipped between velvet fabric**.  
>Morning arose. The shade of warmth that overheats pale skin is a clear transparent. Mid-day. There is a knocking at his door. The sound that echoes throughout a hollow, underused home is light, nearly hesitant. No, it's more careful, tedious, however firm and convincing. It lacks a tremor- it lacks uncertainty. There is confidence in a rhythmic pattern of sound. Only a small hand, graceful, and thin, could create a monotone tempo. It's tastelessly ordinary. Woman. And who has the liberty or business to concern herself with a hazy veteran of betrayal? The answer is written in her polite knocking, the mannerisms of her knuckles tapping wood supports the character who stands before his door. Sakura. Though <em>which <em>Sakura would he be dealing with, if he chose to concern himself with her at all? Flirtatious, needy, attention-hungry? Overbearing, overworking, anxiety-prone? The first persona seemed less likely- _her life ends__ static._ The shinobi world is not fit for the flirtatious, the needy, the dependent, or overbearing? A suit would fit better for Naruto's tendencies than his own. _Confidence. _She is confident in her knocking, her stance still held at his front door. Her feet had not shifted, not once, as footsteps could not be heard thereafter. This Sakura was new, this was the Sakura that had resulted from those three years of utter chaos, of endless profanity. _Hardened._ For whatever reason, her presence gracing him meant there was a considerably significant amount of weight hoisted on her shoulders. Perhaps it were critical information, a message of some sort? Sakura is the right hand of their current Hokage, of course she'd be a messenger of sorts. He'll open his door to let her in.

**To avoid falling out of formality, he lets her have a seat.**  
>Slender fingers curl around the back of the chair's head to pull it out from under the table just as his guest sits down. Scooting herself in he moves over to the counter, his back turned so that he may not see what sorts of expressions could reveal itself upon her face. Hands quickly busy themselves with making tea where he can hear a faint sigh; soft, gentle, leave from his visitor's lips. Picturing it in his head, he could imagine an evenly curved smile feebly lift from her lips. Why? She must be flattered, having tea with an old friend. It is one of the rarest times she had ever showed up at his doorstep. He could believe her taking in meant letting her have a good look around his home. To decipher the kind of man he was also meant taking a look inside the home that he owned.<p>

"Sasuke, you don't have to make tea for me, I'll only take a minute or two- I won't be long."

**Lie.**  
>Sakura was still vaguely traumatized by his presence which is why she instinctively feared to be of any trouble or annoyance to him. How? She promised him a quick word. She isn't <em>capable <em>of having brief conversations with people she had business with. Her words were merely just to appease him, even if it meant buying a few seconds more. Unfortunately for her, he did not fall for it. Her breaths, though even, were short; sharpened at the very end. Also, it didn't take his sharingan to know that her emerald visions had never once left the back of his head. She must have only glanced around his living room once, perhaps to find a possible escape route if he should ever choose mid-way to lunge for her life. Sakura's a clever kunoichi. By this point she would have already organized a way to flee if ever he should decide to turn on her last minute.

After confirmation of his theory his tongue clicked when he turned around with a tray in his hands. A heavy teapot steams with freshly brewed tea, accompanied with two cups to the side. Her eyes flinched at the sound he made with his teeth. Fear. Sasuke could recognize that flash of terror in anyone's eyes. Sakura did not comment, but the silence leaves her uneasy. Sasuke chose to do nothing about it, after pouring her and himself something warm to drink.

**She's a skilled master at medical ninjutsu.**  
>Her eyes study the liquid at her fingertips when raising the cup to her mouth. Of course she would. An analytical student. As to be expected of a former teammate. He would mindlessly take a long sip to his cup, an indication that no harm had been done to her tea. Yet skeptical, how could he be so foolish to think as so? A student of the very snake itself; a father of poison, of course he would bear immunity to all of his children. A tiny drug won't be enough to stop him, but is plenty to cripple his prey. Sakura returns her cup to the table without taking a single drink. She didn't trust him, he could see that.<p>

"Alright, what have you come for?"

No fool would wander into a tiger's den without a reason. He took note of the sudden solemness that befalls his guest's careful composure. She quickly turns anxious, distraught. It leaves his brows to incoherently furrow in wonder of what could be attempting to leave her lips.

"It's Shikamaru," she replied in what soon turned into broken stutters. "He's dead."


	2. The Nameless Body pt2

**The clock's ticking nonchalantly, carelessly.**  
>It sustains supple ambiance to keep the trembling mind at bay. Time often maintained the world when the world was at its worst. Time was irremovable, relentless, and absolute. It held the pieces together, as well as shattered them into dust. It keeps his composure relaxed. After standing his cup an index finger finds itself tapping against the wooden table, keeping up with the beat of his clock's soft ticking in the next room. Time keeps his facial expressions locked in a nondescript mask as his hollow, coal-colored eyes emptily watch the woman who began to peel plaster-made mask after another to gradually reveal the sobbing that jerked at her lungs, the hiccups that choked her through the throat, and the uneven rolls of tears that swept down her cheeks at untimely instances. The question of whether or not to leave and bring her tissues never once occurred to him. Restless. He was more interested in a matter that could care less about his hand in the event of a recent death. He directly pierces his guest with demanding questions while continuously watching her weep silently.<p>

"Condolences. But why approach me about it?"

**His people detested him like the plague.**  
>What sort of services could he contribute? What sort of comfort would his presence at the man's funeral do for the family that grieved? For the friends that cried? For the peers who revered him? If anything they would glare at the Uchiha with evil, devil-eyes, and curse him through snarled teeth during the silence reserved to keep the one lost in their hearts. As if soiling unsoiled ground. It was not right. Unless? Yes, of course. The Hokage's tiny messenger-bird would not disturb his privacy with a trivial matter of visiting a person's funeral. There was more to it, there was gain in allowing him to participate in whatever game his visitor had come to propose with. This was not just something out of politeness. He could only give in to an obvious guess in the dark.<p>

**Murder.**  
>And someone got away with it. Someone close to home. Someone who lurked in the residency of this village and swiped themselves a smile in victory of their vicious deed. With deductions lead to worst, he would even make a gamble that the people of this village would assume it were he who had killed the old boy as revengeful compensation for not being able to bring revolution under his name of glory. No, he had lost his chance, lost his fighting legacy. He was reduced to nothing, everyone knew that. He was nothing more but the scumbag of an Uchiha-bastard, the curse and boil of the village's dark history, a scar that only reminds others outside of the know to curse his name as well, as if his family-harbored curse was not enough, they'll topple on thousands more.<p>

"It was suspected that Shikamaru had been murdered. We're not sure how it happened, or what weapon was used- if there was a weapon at all. It might've been a jutsu for all we know."

**Bingo.**  
>His suspicions were becoming a reality. What did Sakura want with him, then? His eyes would narrow in on her words, again brows furrowing, forging concentration and annoyance to mix together loosely the conflicted emotions he nurtured as patience waited for the woman to cease her quiet hiccups.<p>

"You're a medic-ninja, Sakura. I'm sure of all people you could figure out what the murder weapon was. Even determine if a certain type of jutsu or _poison _had caused his death, and even find an antidote or a possible suspect, too."

**Ticking from a faraway clock disappears completely from earshot.**  
>He could not tell if it was due to his engrossment with the conversation, or if something about his house had gone amiss. Careless. Sasuke Uchiha has gotten a little sloppy since his days as a rogue. Since his days as a decently ranked shinobi. It certainly did not run in his father's blood. Where could he had picked it up from?<p>

"They haven't allowed me to check the body, yet."

**Stubbornness glimpses from sharp jades cut clean in her eyes.**  
>There is a clear look of frustration that keeps the hearth burning like wildfire in her chest. He would imagine, as she kept her hands under the table, her tea already cooled, no longer steaming from heat, that her fists clenched, almost to he point where he could picture the sound of rubber squeeze, threatening to rip her porcelain skin apart like fabric. Sakura is aching to see that body. <em>She desires it. Hungers.<em> Are her antics becoming obsessions, now? His suspicions would speculate around the medic, could she fall victim to a form of madness as well as many others like himself, Naruto, even Gaara? There are better days to contemplate at later times.

"The Hokage wishes for you to...investigate."

**Her lovingly adoration had drained.**  
>Ivory turns into snow. He notices that the usual shades of cherry and pink are missing to fuller her expression around the face. It is becoming of her. New, neutral. To Sasuke it speaks a different volume. A contrast made so far from his previous perspectives of the woman in their earlier years together. Beauty. Ceramic complexions caught his eyes on her. Further proof that this certainly was the Sakura that had evolved after three years of lousy war, waged by old men and vengeful children.<p>

"Aren't there other people better suited for this job?"

The shake of her head indicates no other possible answer. Sakura was so knowledgeable about everything, at the same time hardly knew anything at all. It baffled him, but after all he did not expect _too much _of anything out of her.

"Those are the Hokage's orders."

Irrefutable, and yet Sakura has a puppy-eyed look suggesting that he could defy their leader's words.

"What will you do?"

**Time continues to tick silently in a distant room.**  
>Like a reflection both he and his guest exchange hollow looks. Wordlessly he would rise from his seat. It triggers Sakura to raise a hand on the surface of his table. She would lift herself from her chair to stand, mid-way out of bent legs, and hesitated stances. A case. Sasuke is now fully aware that he has been given a case. Out of the blue, too. Shoved. Another chore. What is the Hokage thinking? Redemption. That idiot thinks this would bring this abandoned man back to a righteousness he once owned when he was young and youthful. However the glory he obtained back then was a facade. It was unrealistic. The persona he had sculpted now was the one that truly represented him. That damnable Hokage would never take that away from him. He was the shadow cast by that man's light.<p> 


	3. The Nameless Body pt3

**Distractions.**  
>He needed them. An ex-ninja by force. Like toys the village won't hesitate to take advantage of his precious, starry-red spider lilies. And the Rinnegan, a beautiful power bestowed nearly by god. Any nation, <em>any village, <em>would kill just to carve his eyes out. His intentions were to disassociate himself from Konahagakure. Separate, seclude, and then finally, to protect his well being. The life of a rogue was better than the life of a ranked shinobi, better than an ex-ninja. Better than anything the Uchiha could ever ask for. In the end, however, he was nothing more but a grimy ex-nin with the consistent company of faceless ambu to watch his every move in case he should do wrong. He needed distractions. If he could not travel, could not fight, could not move freely as the wind that blew the windmill of his destiny, then this would have to do. It was just a distraction. To help these people were beyond his interests. He needed a reason to leave his house. A little variety, and he got it.

"You Leaf have crap analytical skills. This isn't Shikamaru."

The burning glamour of a sharp Sharingan peered into what looked to be the desecrated corpse of a body that just happened to be wearing that lazy bloke's flannel jacket. A scoff or two can be heard, accompanied by an image of a thousand shinobi sneering down at the male. If not for his self-awareness that enticing thought of sliding his blade through the entire investigation squad would have instantly won majority vote. It wasn't like as if these _rookies_ had a chance with him anyway. They were nothing more but pesky flies.

"The hell is _he _doing here?"

**Qualms raised thunder.**  
>He would gladly be the one to send lighting through black clouds, into the mouth of whoever scoffed spit at his purpose for being here. The bothersome medic hadn't left his side since she appeared at his doorstep that morning. Her expression would never be difficult to predict. A corner of his mind would guess with leisure as to what kind of measly face would pull on her skin. Be it surprise, concern, or confusion. <em>Sakura was always such an ordinary girl that way.<em>

"What makes you say that, Sasuke?"

Still smart book-wise. All she ever knew was how to stay good in school so of course she would try her best to steer away from the negativity that weighted his shoulders. The ex-nin straightened his legs, walking back the way he came after examining the body. A mixture of ridicule and embarrassment flared from his nostrils. He would be angry- wouldn't hesitate to finish the job he couldn't get to back when that kunoichi had chased him all the way to the bridge on the border between them and the land of iron. Was there any point to bringing him out in the open like this? The streets were bare. Silence had fallen wherever he stepped. The people of the village had cleared long before he came into arm's reach. Perhaps word had made it before he that his arrival would be looming, but swift.

"I don't even need my Sharingan to point out that isn't Shikamaru."

However Sakura looked as if she were not satisfied by his half-rate answer and a bit frustratedly she shot back a response, a voice dwindling away, the further he walked from the crime scene. Odd. The Uchiha noted that Sakura did not even take a step towards hobbling directly behind him. Another improvement. Perhaps he liked this one better than the old, but only by a very miniscule amount.

"Then where's Shikamaru?"

He took that opposition as a careless retort from an argument between two problematic and dysfunctional mates; a battle for the last word which Sasuke had no interest in partaking in. He shrugged, not ever once giving her the sympathy to glance back. It was another day wasted and a pitiful attempt at a measly distraction.

"Beats me."


End file.
